


Bless Me, Father

by Anonymous



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Blasphemy, F/M, Oral Sex, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-16 04:54:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13629024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: When he was ordained, Father Kristoff took vows of chastity, poverty, and obedience.  Then she entered his confessional.





	1. Chapter 1

“Do I have any penance, Father?”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Kristoff said.  He wasn’t one of those _take two Hail Marys and call me in the morning_ kind of priests.   And despite the ornate screen of the confessional, he’d known who his penitent was as soon as he stepped into the booth.  Soren was his only regular, a 40-ish lawyer whose sins ranged from envy (a co-worker who’d made partner) to impure thoughts (an attractive clerk at the courthouse).  But Soren’s real sins came from his personal stagnation, and no amount of rosary-worrying would change anything if he didn’t address the real cause.

“No penance,” Kristoff went on, “but I do want you to think about your life.  You have faith, but no direction.  What gets you out of bed in the morning?  Besides the Church, what gives your life meaning?”

Final prayers and a blessing, and Soren left, heading back to his office to finish his afternoon.  Kristoff checked his phone.  Reconciliation hours were almost over, and he had a rare free afternoon.  He could slip out a little early, take Sven and go for a hike in the mountains outside the city.  No one besides Soren ever came to confession anyway.

Then the booth opened and penitent’s bench creaked a little as someone settled in.  Kristoff masked a sigh.  He’d been looking forward to his hike, the chance to enjoy the outdoors and the beautiful summer weather, to blow off some steam…

 _Focus_ , he told himself.

The sound of a throat clearing.  A woman.  A fact confirmed by the hints of flowers and strawberries that wafted through the screen.

Kristoff made the sign of the Cross.  “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit…”  The woman’s voice echoed the words beneath his.

He stiffened when he heard her voice.  He glanced over and caught a flash of red hair through the screen.   _Oh no…_

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned.  It’s been…too long since my last confession.”

It was _her_.  Anna Arendelle.  His newest parishioner, who’d first shown up at Mass a few weeks before.  He couldn’t help but notice her.  Right there in the front pew, her mane of ginger hair in a sloppy bun and her perfect legs under a skirt that was just a tiny bit too short to be appropriate in church.  He’d stumbled over his homily when she crossed those legs and the skirt hitched up to expose a stretch of shapely thigh.

And she’d noticed that he’d noticed.  Given him a slight smile when she caught him looking.  Stared directly into his eyes during Eucharist, the tip of her tongue wetting her lips as she accepted the wafer from him. He’d fled to the rectory as soon as was acceptable after Mass, and said two extra rosaries before bedtime that night.

Not that it helped.  She paraded through his dreams anyway.  Kristoff may have been a priest, but he hadn’t stopped being a _man_ when he put on the collar.

And almost making matters worse, Anna was a good, kind person.  She had immediately gotten involved in church activities, helping out at a pancake breakfast for the needy and delivering groceries for the parish’s elderly and shut-ins.  She even showed up with a toolbox to help with the renovation of the family center.

They’d had a few conversations – he learned that she had recently moved to town, had done mission work in Africa, and had a sister that she didn’t see nearly as often as she wanted to.  At times she seemed flirty with him – a knowing look and that slight smile playing across her freckled face when she caught him staring at her ass as she climbed a ladder – and at other times, she grinned and giggled in that playful way women did with their gay friends.  With men they felt were safe.

God help him, he didn’t want her to see him as _safe_. 

No, what he wanted was those freckled thighs wrapped around his waist.  Or better yet, clamped around his head as he tasted the heaven between them.

He’d prayed five extra rosaries and jerked off twice before bed that night, and still awakened the next morning grinding his hips into the mattress, dreaming of her pink lips wrapped around his cock, her sea-blue eyes clouded with lust as he fucked her.

And now she was here, the two of them separated only by the screen of the booth.  And the strength of his vows.  Kristoff tried to control his breathing as he imagined what she could possibly want to confess.

“I grew up in the Church, but drifted away,” she began.  “I…I have some things that have been bothering me, and I thought maybe….”  She trailed off for a moment, then abruptly inhaled.  “This was a dumb idea.  I should go.”  Kristoff heard her stand.

“Stop!” he commanded.  Then he froze, shocked at himself.  He never gave orders like that.  At least, not anymore.  And not in _that_ voice.

She sat, and he could hear her fidgeting.

 _Focus_.

“You aren’t stupid,” he said, his voice gentler.  “This is a place where you can be heard.  By God…by me…maybe even by yourself.   So please…stay.”

_What the hell are you doing, Kristoff?_

She let out a long breath.  “I…I don’t know.  I don’t know if I should tell anybody.  Much less you.”

“Because I’m a man?”

“No.  Because you’re…you’re s – you’re a priest.”

Something in her tone sent his blood racing south.  He shifted on his bench, resisting the urge to touch himself.  When he was sure he had his voice under control, he said, “The things that are bothering you…are they of a… _carnal_ nature?”

“Carnal?”  Anna laughed, a clear, musical sound.  It went straight to his groin, and he wanted to rip through the screen to see the beautiful mouth that it came from.  “That’s…such a wonderful euphemism.”

“We can be as general as you want,” Kristoff said, cursing himself.  “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

There was a long silence, some more fidgeting, a sharp inhale.  Kristoff squirmed, his body aware of everything.  The slight chafing of his slacks.  The hard wood of the bench.  The collar that was suddenly too tight.  Much too tight.

“The screen helps,” she said finally.  Then a nervous giggle.  “So Father What-A-Waste can’t see what I’m doing over here.”

“Father What?” Kristoff choked out.

“Oh, come on,” Anna scoffed.  “Surely the smokin’ hot priest knows what the women of his parish call him.”

Yes, he knew.  He’d heard it, mostly from giggling teenage girls in the youth group.  Occasionally from an attractive older woman who thought it was fun to flirt with a young priest.  None of that affected him.  Much.  He was still a man.  A man who’d enjoyed fucking a lot before he heard the call.  He still noticed women, but had become pretty good at deflecting his thoughts away from the sexual.

Except for her.  What was is about her?  He hadn’t wanted a woman this badly in years.

He cleared his throat.  No matter what his feelings, she was still one of his flock.  A lamb who looked to him for protection and guidance.  “What’s been weighing on you?” he asked.

“I’ve done something really bad.  I don’t know what I’m supposed to do next.  I…I need to know that everything will be okay.”

Her voice quavered on her last words, and Kristoff fought the urge to go around to the other side of the booth and pull her into his arms.  “I can’t promise that,” he said.  “It might not ever be okay.  But I can promise that I will listen.  God will listen, and help you start again.  Help you find your way back.”

She was silent for a while, with an occasional sniffle the only indication she was still there.  Just when Kristoff thought that she was finished, she began to speak.  In a soft, clear voice that held pain and uncertainty and confusion, she told her story.  A woman in love with a charming, handsome man.  Her first kiss, her first lover, her first orgasm.  She wasn’t his first anything, and he cheated constantly.  Still, she was convinced that he loved her.  Right up until he married another woman.

She tried to move on.  But she still loved him.  Still wanted him.  And when he turned up at her apartment on a night she felt particularly low, she’d been easy pickings.  Even as he justified his marriage to someone else, someone more suitable to his social status, she responded to his touch.  To his hand between her legs.  To his lips against her throat.  To him sliding her panties off and bending her over the kitchen table.  He still wanted her, he claimed.  She was never meant to be a wife, but she could be his mistress.  He’d married a socialite, but he wanted to fuck _her_.

And she let him.  Let him thrust into her while he told her about the fantasy life they would have together.  Expensive restaurants.  Vacations in the Caribbean.  Orgasms on silky sheets during languid afternoons.  It sounded so perfect, coming in that silky voice from his lying mouth, and she came even as she felt the cold metal of his wedding ring digging into her hip.

“And that’s my sin, Father,” she finished.  “My shame.  Hans is married.  I knew that.  But I still let him fuck me.  And…I let myself…”

Kristoff kept silent went she broke off, not trusting his voice.  Her confession was so… _raw_.  His heart ached for her even as he shook with rage at this Hans asshole who toyed with her so callously.

He was also so hard that he felt lightheaded.

“…I let myself come,” she finished, her voice tiny and sad.  “I fucked a married man and I came.  He cheated on me all the time and wasn’t even sorry for it.  And I still let him.  Let myself.  What…what kind of person does that?”

Kristoff knew he needed to say something, comfort her, help her, but _fuck_ , he couldn’t focus on anything but the mental picture of her, flushed and gasping, her face pressed against a table as she squealed through her orgasm.  His hand fell to his crotch, rubbing through his slacks.  Could he unzip and jack himself off without her knowing?  His fury mixed dangerously with lust and jealousy, because it had been so long since he’d had a woman whimpering beneath his touch…

 _You’re going to hell,_ he chastised himself _.  You’re no better than this Hans.  Get it together.  You can take care of your…_ problem _…later._

“Maybe Hans was right.  Maybe I – ”  She broke off.

“Maybe you what?” he demanded.   _That_ voice again, and there was no mistaking the danger now.

She shifted in her seat.  “I should go.”

The door handle clicked open, and Kristoff was out of his seat and around the booth in an instant, looming over her as she stepped out.  She looked up at him, her blue eyes wide.  She bit her lip, and a small noise escaped her.

Kristoff stopped seeing a penitent.  Stopped seeing a lamb in need of a shepherd.

He saw only a woman in need.

_God help me._

All the rosaries in the world weren’t going to help him now.

She backed away a few steps, stopping when she bumped into the end of a pew.  Her eyes never left his.  Her teeth still held her bottom lip.  Kristoff wanted to bite that lip himself, bite it so hard she would cry out.

He advanced on her slowly, and she watched every step, the hunger in her eyes unmistakable.

“Turn around,” he ordered.  She obeyed immediately, turning and bracing herself on the back of the pew. Kristoff stood right behind her, reaching out to run a finger from her shoulder to her waist, the warmth of her back radiating through the thin material of her blouse.  “Now, tell me what you were going to say.  And don’t forget, lying is a sin.”

She shivered, and a little moan came from somewhere in her throat.  “I…I can’t…”

Kristoff trailed his fingers up between her shoulder blades, then flattened his hand and pushed her, bending her over the back of the pew until her face pressed against the wood.  She was so petite that she had to rise onto her toes, her heels lifting from her flats, her calf muscles flexing and straining.  Her short skirt rode up, and Kristoff caught a glimpse of pink flesh through the slit.

“Anna,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, “did you come to confession with no panties?”  She nodded.  “Intentionally?”

A moan, and then another nod.

The crack echoed through the sanctuary when he smacked her ass.  Anna jumped and whimpered, then pushed her ass back toward him.  Kristoff wanted to spank her again, God knows he did, for coming in here and turning his secure world upside down. Instead let his hands drift down to the hem of her skirt.  He grabbed it and yanked it up around her hips.

He knelt behind her and took two handfuls of her glorious ass, spreading her cheeks to expose her pussy fully.  “Oh, lamb,” he whispered.  “You’re so wet.”

And she was.  Wet and pink and _quivering_ , right there in front of his face.

_Just one taste.  God won’t punish me for just one taste._

He ran his tongue from her clit to her slit, and God help him, he’d never had anything so sweet.  He couldn’t stop at just one.  He tasted her again.  She cried out, and he dove in, fucking her with his tongue and teeth and lips, eating her like a starving man at a five-course meal.  His cock was so hard it hurt, because those noises, that scent, and fuck _,_ that _taste_ , and he thought he might come without even touching himself.

He dragged one finger along her slit, then thrust it inside her.  Oh God, she was so fucking _tight_.  His finger crooked, searching to find that spot that would push her over the edge.  It brushed soft ridged flesh, and Anna jerked, a groan ripping from her chest.  She ground back into his face, and all he was aware of was her – her scent, her taste, her smooth slickness, her fingernails scratching against the pew’s wood as little sighs and moans fell from her lips.

The he glanced up and saw the crucifix hanging at the front of sanctuary.  His heart lurched.  _What am I doing?_  Anyone could walk in, walk in and see their priest on his knees, face buried between Anna’s cheeks, worshiping her cunt.

And his vows?  Vows made before God and his family?  Only a few years after swearing an oath of chastity, and he was tongue-fucking a woman in front of his confessional booth.  Did his promises mean anything?

Then Anna came, and it was like everything just disappeared, lost in her mewling cries and the feel of her clenching around his finger.

He pulled back reluctantly and stood.  She looked over her shoulder at him, her face full of wonder and…gratitude?

“No one’s ever done that to me before,” she murmured.

_Done what?  Bent you over a pew and eaten you out in church?_

“No one’s ever made me come like that…using their mouth, I mean?”  the flush on her face deepened and spread down her neck.

Kristoff’s eyebrows shot up.  “No one’s ever gone down on you before?”  Anna pressed her lips together and gave her head a little shake.  “What a shame, lamb.  Hans didn’t know how take care of you.”

He pressed his hips into her ass, stifling a groan as his covered erection rubbed against her.  His hand slid down and found her clit, and he smiled when she keened.  He stroked her, enjoying the way her hips rocked against his hand.  “I have to admit, though – it makes me so hard to know I was the first man to taste you.”

He recoiled as soon as the words left his mouth, reality hitting him like a freight train.  He stepped back from her.  _What the fuck am I doing?_

Anna spun around and grabbed his belt.  “Don’t you dare,” she warned, those blue eyes flashing.

“I…I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”  Her hand slid down to grope him, and his protest died in his throat.  His belt buckle clinked, her fingers slipped into his boxers to wrap around his cock, and he thought his knees might give out. 

_Oh God, that feels so good…_

“You’re a good priest, Father Kristoff,” she went on as her hand moved lower, cradling him.  “But you’re also a good man.  I think a good man deserves the occasional indulgence.”  He swallowed hard as she started to pump him in earnest.  “It’s not breaking the rules if we don’t actually have sex, right?”

“Y-you’re quibbling now,” he stammered, mesmerized by the sight of her hand moving up and down his shaft.

“Another confession, then,” she said.  Her hand slid down to stroke his balls, and a groan tore from him when her finger pressed lightly against the spot right behind them.  “The first time I saw you, I thought how unfair it was that you’re a priest.  That God shouldn’t allow men who look like you to hear the call.  Then when I caught you staring at my ass, it made me so hot.  I got myself off thinking about you.”

The last remaining thread of his self-control started to fray.  “You…you’ve gotten yourself off thinking about me?”

“More than once,” she admitted, trailing her fingers up under his shirt.  “And today…hearing your voice through the screen…you make me so wet.”

The thread snapped, his self-control completely gone.  He pushed her to the floor, spreading her knees apart to kneel between.  He stretched himself over her and pinned her hands over her head, his cock rubbing against her folds and her bunched-up skirt.  “Are you telling me,” he demanded, “that you were touching yourself in the confessional next to me?”

She nodded.

“Is that why you didn’t wear panties?”

She nodded again.  The heat in her eyes as they bored into his made him dizzy, and it took everything he had not just thrust into her right there.  Every movement made his cock slide against her folds, and fuck, she was so _warm_.  So _wet_.

“Show me,” he ordered.

“What?”

He pulled away and sat back on his heels.  “Show me.  I want to see what you look like when you fuck yourself thinking about me.”

Anna’s mouth dropped open.  Her cheeks flushed bright red, but she rose to her knees and hiked her skirt up around her waist.  Her eyes fell shut as her hand slid down between her legs.  Kristoff’s breath hitched as he gave in, gave in to all of it.  He fisted his cock, breathing raggedly as he pumped himself in time with her fingers stroking her clit.

Then suddenly he was on his back, Anna straddling him.  She yanked his shirt up to see his stomach, and her nostrils flared as she ran her hands over his abs.  Her cleft came down on his shaft, and moaning, she started stroking him with it.  Up and down, her slick folds sliding along the underside of his cock, using him like a toy to get them both off.  Kristoff raised himself on his elbow to watch, watch the way her flesh pressed against his, the way her swollen clit peeked out from the patch of damp ginger curls, the way her breasts bounced under her thin blouse.  She was so fucking wet, and with her body weight pressing against his cock, it was so close to the real thing.  Too close.

 _It's not technically sex_ , he told himself.  _Maybe I’m not really sinning_.

But even if he was, he wasn’t going to stop.  It felt too good.

It was so _hot_ – the harsh rasp of their breathing, the musk of their arousal, even the feel of the carpet abrading his ass.  The way her skirt was still jacked up around her waist, the way his pants were pulled down just far enough free his balls, the way she grabbed his cock and angled it to hit her in all the right spots, and God, he wanted her.  Wanted to own her, keep her right there on the old carpet forever, with her nipples hard and her hair falling out of its bun and her riding him with abandon.

“Please,” she gasped, “I want to see you come.”

Her begging shot a jolt down his spine.  He grabbed her hips and worked her over him harder, eyes glazing as he watched her pussy slide faster along his shaft.  He wanted to be inside her, wanted it more than anything he’d ever wanted before.  It would be so easy, just a slight change in angle –

“Please,” she gasped again, and pushed him over the edge. 

His orgasm seemed to last forever, his come spurting onto his stomach in a pulsing, total body release.  Somewhere at the fuzzy edge of his awareness, he heard Anna cry out with her own orgasm.

Kristoff could barely breathe.  Barely process what he had just done, what he had just _felt_.  He let his head fall back against the floor, overcome with the realization that though he had not gotten inside of Anna, she had somehow gotten inside of _him_.  That even now, panting and spent, he wanted her again.  And again and again and again.  Even now, as his self-control creaked back to life, along with his vengeful conscience.

Anna still straddled him.  They stared at each other for a long moment, their chests heaving. 

“Will it drive you crazy,” she finally asked in a small voice, “to know I’ll be thinking about you every time I touch myself?”

_Fuck, yes._

“Anna….”  He trailed off.  What could he possibly say?  There was no way he could explain his guilt.  No way he could explain how deeply she’d gotten under his skin.  No way to admit that he would probably never get her out of his system. 

 _“Si vis amari, ama,”_ she whispered.  Her eyes met his, understanding swimming in their sea-blue depths.  “I know.  I’m sorry too.”

She stood up and straightened her clothing.  Kristoff sat up, wiping at his belly with his shirt.  He looked around.  The sanctuary suddenly seemed vast and hollow, with only the overworked ceiling fans to cut through the silence.  At least there were no parishioners to witness his weakness.  He’d gotten away with it, but somehow that only made him feel worse.

He climbed to his feet, and he and Anna just looked each other, disheveled, sweaty, and reeking of sex.  Then she turned and left the church without another word.

Kristoff made his way back to the rectory.  He would see Anna again, he knew.  And the possibility filled him with both cold dread and soaring anticipation.


	2. Chapter 2

For the next few days, Kristoff said extra prayers.  Woke up at dawn and went on long punishing runs before morning Mass.  Cleaned the rectory and the sacristy from top to bottom, and buried himself in spreadsheets as he tried (and failed) to make sense of the renovation budget.  Anything to get his mind off Anna Arendelle.

He even contemplated going to the bishop to confess, but in the end he chickened out.

After a late night spent reading every Bible passage he knew on the nature of sin, he hauled himself out of bed early Saturday morning and laced up his running shoes again.  He took a back road out of town.  Anna was a runner as well – he’d seen her on some of the greenways before – and he wanted to avoid any chance that he might cross her path.

He ran further than normal, pushing himself until his legs cramped and his lungs screamed.  Then instead of going to his shower, he staggered into the church, hands laced above his head and chest heaving. 

The church was dark and empty and Kristoff wasn’t even sure why he was there until he collapsed to his knees in the sanctuary.  His head hung low and sweat dripped everywhere, but he didn’t care.  He couldn’t care.  And he wasn’t sure when his ragged breathing turned to sobs and tears mingled with the sweat until he couldn’t tell the difference.

The morning sun streamed through the stained glass, sending brilliant jeweled patterns tumbling over the pews, the floor, his body.  Yet the gold tabernacle stayed shrouded in shadow.  Somber.  Sacred.

Unforgiving?

Kristoff leaned forward until his forehead pressed against the floor, whispering _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry_ in a rhythmic chant.

Awareness prickled along his spine, and he jerked up, looking around in embarrassment. Had a parishioner seen him like that, half-naked and crying on the floor of the sanctuary?

The sanctuary was empty.

But he still felt the prickle of a presence, like static on his skin. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered one last time.

He returned to the rectory, banging into the kitchen and biting back a curse when he nearly bowled over a woman just inside the door.  He lunged to keep a casserole dish from crashing to the floor, then did a dancing side-step around Sven, who had chosen that moment to start circling his legs and begging for a pat.

“Sorry, Bulda, I didn’t expect you this early.”

Bulda _tsked_ as she took the casserole dish from him.  “If you’re training for something, you’re not doing a very good job.  How can you expect to run so much on so little food?”  She started unloading more dishes and containers from a box she had set on the counter, grumbling about the emptiness of his refrigerator.

Kristoff shook his head at the familiar grousing.  Bulda was about 200 years old and one of his most active parishioners.  She organized Fish Fry Fridays and the bimonthly Saturday pancake breakfasts and pretty much everything else that needed organizing around the parish.  She’d also adopted him as a project when he first moved to town, shaking her head at his age and appearance and complete lack of any cooking skills beyond Cup O’ Noodles and microwave meals.  At least once a week, she showed up with food “to keep you from starving!”

He leaned around her to grab a water bottle from the fridge and downed it in a few large gulps.  Then he draped himself over the long-suffering window AC unit and sighed in relief.

“You do realize that it’s dangerous to run in this heat, even this early?  I don’t care how fit you are, you’re going to get heat stroke.”

Kristoff mumbled something incoherent into the AC.

“Go take a shower.  I ran into that delightful new girl, Anna, in town last night.  She said she was going to help with the breakfast this morning.  You do want to look nice for the new girl, don’t you?”

Kristoff raised his head and gave her an incredulous look.  Bulda patted his cheek and he winced.  Ancient or not, she was damn strong.

“I’m going to the church now to help them mix the batter.  I’ll make sure Anna knows you’re coming.” 

Kristoff stifled a groan.  ‘Anna’ and ‘coming’ were not words he wanted to think about in the same sentence right now.  Bulda gave his cheek another pat, nearly dislocating his jaw, then she left.  Kristoff peeled himself off the air conditioner and went to shower.

 

*******

 

It ended up being easier to stay on task at the breakfast than he thought it would be.  It was jam-packed, and he made sure he sat at every table at some point during the morning to get to know the visitors.  Some of them were regulars at the twice-monthly breakfast, but there were many new faces, which both heartened and distressed him.  Some of them had children that he could send home with backpacks full of school supplies and snacks.  Others had elderly parents he could refer to local services.  Some were just lonely and wanted someone to talk to.

He could do that too.

Every so often, he’d see Anna out of the corner of his eye, smiling at a guest or bringing out fresh plates.  She was so kind, so genuine, and seemed so…at peace.  A stark contrast to the troubled woman from the confessional.

The woman he’d nearly fucked on the floor of the sanctuary.

He clenched his fist around a napkin and tried to put her out of his head.

He ended the morning satisfied.  While he probably wouldn’t see any of the visitors at Mass anytime soon, he would see many of them again in two weeks, and that was fine with him.  The breakfasts were about filling bellies, not winning souls.

He sent Bulda and the others home while he cleaned up.  He sang to himself while he folded tables and stacked chairs.  He was wheeling the mop bucket out of the closet when a voice made him jump.

“How can I help?”

He whirled to see Anna standing there.  Her hair was in a messy bun, coppery strands falling around her face, sea-blue eyes warm and open.  Even under the harsh fluorescent light, she seemed too lovely to be real.

“I thought you left,” he said, moving his gaze to the much-safer mop and bucket.

“I was helping one of the families with backpacks.  You know, the one with the six kids?”

The Rierdans.  They were among the regulars.  Frank Rierdon struggled with addiction and was constantly between jobs.

“That was nice of you.”  Kristoff swallowed.  Why did he suddenly feel like he was losing his balance?  Something that was more than lust was starting to creep around the edges of his awareness.

“You seem surprised,” she said, stepping a little closer.  Her words were teasing, but the subtext was clear: _you don’t think I’m a good person?_

He immediately felt defensive.  But he admitted he was a little surprised at her sincerity.  Before he could say anything, she had taken another step closer.

“Why?  Is it because you think I’m some sort of…fallen woman?”

Kristoff fought the urge to laugh at the term.  But Anna was deadly serious.  He looked at her, cringing at the hurt in her eyes.

“I don’t think you’re a fallen woman.”

“Because we’re all sinners in a fallen world?”

“No,” he said, meeting her gaze.  He took a deep breath.  “I was going to say that people who are as bright and attractive as you don’t have to be kind unless they want to.  So yeah, it surprises me a little.”

“You’re bright and attractive,” she said.

He grinned at her.

“Stop it, Father, I’m serious.  Are you sure you aren’t surprised because I’m a smart, attractive _woman_?”

“What? No!”

She stepped even closer, so that only the mop and bucket separated them.  As hard as he tried to keep his eyes on hers, he couldn’t help but notice the curve of her collarbone, the hint of cleavage at the top of her sundress.  A whiff of strawberries reached his nose.

“I want to be a good person, Father, but more than that, to be a good _woman_.  Is it possible to be both?  To be all good and all woman?”

Shit.  They’d gone from kids’ backpacks to the dark corner of Catholic dogma at Mach one speed.

“Yes, Anna, it is.  At least to the extent that anyone can be completely good.  You’re a child of God.  A loved daughter.”

“I guess I don’t really feel loved,” she said, looking at her feet.

“Anna, look at me.”

Her sea-blue eyes raised to meet his.

“You are loved.  Every part of you, good and bad.  If I make you feel differently, then that’s my fault, not yours.  Do you understand?”

She nodded, then gave him a little smile.  “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have cornered you like that.”  She fiddled with the clasp on her purse.  “It’s just…well, Hans called me last night, and I guess maybe I let it screw with my head.”

“What?”  Kristoff tried to clamp down on the anger that he knew had nothing to do with his professional concern.

“I didn’t talk to him,” Anna said quickly, “but he left a voicemail.  He, um, repeated all those things he said before…about how I’m a…well, the kind of woman that I am, and what I was meant to be.  He said he was coming for me.”

“He _said_ that?”

Anna nodded, and red rage clouded the edges of Kristoff’s vision.  His hands tightened around the mop handle.

Concern flickered across Anna’s face, and she reached out to pUT her hand over his.  “It’s okay, Father.  He’ll try to sweet talk me with more stories of vacations and beaches and fine wines, and I’ll reject him.  Again.”

 _Like you rejected him last time?_   Kristoff bit off the words before they could escape his lips.

“I don’t like it,” he said, unable to keep the dark tinge from his voice.  Not the voice of her priest or her friend, but the man who had nearly had her just one corridor away.  “I don’t want you to see him.”

Her eyes flashed, the warm sea-blue morphing into cold shards of ice.  “Well, that’s not really any of your business, is it?”

“I know how dangerous a man can be when he wants a woman he can’t have.”

She raised one russet brow, and Kristoff nearly staggered from the perfectly-aimed, yet unspoken rebuke.  Without a word, she turned and left, her sandals clicking down the hallway.

Kristoff took a deep breath and tried to figure out what the fuck had just happened.

 

******

 

_Knock knock knock!_

Kristoff rolled over in bed.

_Knock knock knock!_

_Whafuck?_ He propped himself on one elbow as the insistent sound penetrated his sleep-fogged brain.

_Knock knock knock!_

“Hang on, I’m coming,” he muttered, swinging his legs out of bed.

_BOOM!_

The flash of lightning and deafening thunder didn’t help his disorientation.  He fumbled for a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, nearly tripping over Sven, who had shot partway under the bed at the thunderclap and left his ass sticking out.

“Coward,” Kristoff grumbled at him.  The dog’s fringy tail thumped once.

He groped his way down the hall to the sound of more knocking, now just awake enough to register that someone was at his door at two in the morning.  He wondered if it was the police coming to tell him that one of the parish teenagers had wrapped his car around a tree while texting, or if someone needed last rites.  Whatever the reason, it probably wasn’t good, and he braced himself for tragedy as he opened the door.

Instead of a policeman, a rain-drenched Anna stood on his doorstep, a bottle of akvavit in one hand.

He stared at her for a second, his mouth gaping uselessly.  After their parting that morning, the last thing he expected at his door at two AM was Anna bearing gifts.  Especially not Anna wearing a pair of tiny running shorts and a thin Mickey Mouse t-shirt.  She wasn’t wearing a bra and the rain had made the shirt almost transparent, her nipples dark and hard and poking out on both sides of Mickey’s head, making the mouse’s grin look terribly lewd.

Once he noticed those breasts, he couldn’t think about anything else, how they were probably covered with goose bumps, and how that pebbled flesh would feel under his tongue.

Then he shook his head, and for a moment was torn between two impulses:  slamming the door in her face or lifting her up and fucking her right there against his doorjamb.

One of the verses from his previous night’s reading echoed in his head.  _Flee youthful lusts and pursue righteousness._   He knew he should just shut the door and go back to bed.

But then Anna shivered, and Kristoff found himself stepping aside and waving her inside.

 _Pursue righteousness_ , Timothy said.  But did righteousness carry a bottle of Overste Brannvin in her hand?

Anna stepped into the small living room and turned to face him. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“I gathered,” Kristoff managed.  Fuck, his cock was getting hard already.  He hadn’t even seen her breasts yet, and they were deliciously tempting under the wet shirt.

 _Fuck_.  He didn’t mean yet, he meant never.  He was never going to see them.  _Accept that_ , he ordered his cock, which completely ignored him.  Instead, all he got were primal images: what it would be like to fuck those tits, to see his dick slide between them, to watch his come spurt over her chest. 

Anna’s eyes dropped to the front of his sweatpants, which were doing nothing to hide his thoughts.  He turned away from her and went into the kitchen.  She followed him and held out the akvavit.

“A peace offering,” she said. 

He just looked at her for a second, then rummaged in a cabinet to find some glasses.

“I couldn’t sleep and I wanted to say I’m sorry and…and…”  She took a deep breath.  “I’m so sorry for waking you up.  I should go.”

“Don’t,” Kristoff said before he could stop himself.  A flush spread across her cheeks.  _She’s nervous_ , he realized.  “Go in the living room,” he ordered.  “Wait for me.”

She obeyed immediately, and Kristoff felt a dormant part of his old self reawaken.  A darker part, the part that loved having a woman pliant before him, taking his directions, obeying his commands. 

Then came the shame.  _You’re being a pig.  Get control of yourself.  Share a drink and then tell her she has to leave.  She’ll understand._

_She’ll hate you._

_You deserve it._

Kristoff didn’t usually drink alone, and it took him a few minutes to find a couple of dust-covered tumblers.  He quickly cleaned them out and poured the drinks.

Anna had turned on the gas fireplace and was sitting on the hearth.  _Begoodbegoodbegood_ , Kristoff told himself as he offered her a glass.  _Don’t think about fucking her tits.  Be a good priest_. 

She smiled and Kristoff thought his heart might stop.  “Thank you.”

He nodded, not trusting his voice, and sat in the chair next to the fireplace.   _Bad idea_.  Anna was now basically sitting at his feet and that wasn’t helping the direction of his thoughts.

“Anna – “ he began.  His voice cracked a little.

“No,” she interrupted.  “I need to apologize.  That’s what I came here to do.”  She met his eyes.  “I’m…I’m still kind of fucked up from what happened with Hans, and when you got all…protective earlier, I panicked.”

She tilted her head, and the fire glowed through the drying waves of her hair, casting a halo-like glow around her head.  Kristoff shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“And I’ll confess – since I _am_ talking to a priest – it’s complicated by the fact that I can’t stop thinking about you.  All the fucking time.  And it’s killing me.”

Kristoff flinched.  It was the first and last thing he wanted to hear. 

A hurt expression flickered across her face.  “Anyway,” she went on in a small voice, “I’m sorry.  And I’m sorry for what happened at confession.  I have all this shit in my life, and I took advantage of you because you were kind.”

Kristoff gathered his strength to say what he needed – but didn’t want – to say.  “I’m glad you came.  You don’t have to be sorry for what happened, because that was my fault.  But I’m glad you understand why it can’t happen again.  I have vows and I – “

He stuttered as images from the sanctuary shot through his mind.  His face in her cunt.  Her heavenly scent, and _fuck_ , her taste.  Her pussy clenching around his finger.  Her slick heat sliding up and down his cock.  He was now so hard it hurt, and even the loose sweatpants felt tight.

He swallowed hard.  “You came to me, a lamb needing a shepherd, and I took advantage of you,” he finished.

She narrowed her eyes at him.  “You did _not_ take advantage of me.  I’ve gone through some shit, but I make my own decisions.  I’m not some damaged princess.  I chose to screw Hans.  I chose to do what we did in the sanctuary.  I wasn’t just some unwilling bystander, and you don’t get to tell me I was.”

She stood up, face red and eyes flashing.  “I won’t bother you with my body again.  I’ll respect your vow and your outdated chivalry.”

It was like she had driven a knife into him and twisted it.

She turned to leave, but her grabbed her arm and yanked her between his knees.  She gasped but didn’t pull away.  Her nipples were _right there_ , poking through her still-damp shirt, and before he knew it, he had one in his mouth.

Her fingers laced through his hair and she moaned.  He sucked harder, drawing the water from the t-shirt and feeling the pebbled texture of her skin through the fabric.

“I thought – ah!“  Anna writhed as he bit down, holding her nipple between his teeth as he flicked his tongue over the tip.  “You – you just said – “

He pulled back.  “You’re right.  I shouldn’t do this.”

Her face fell.  Before she could pull away, he grabbed her hips and took her other nipple in his mouth, biting and sucking until she cried out.  Then he tugged her down until she straddled his thigh, smiling slightly when she began to grind her pussy against him.

He let go of her nipple and put his lips to her ear.  “I shouldn’t.  I shouldn’t put you over my knee and spank your ass for coming in here without a bra.  I shouldn’t screw you until you can’t walk.  I shouldn’t flip you over and fuck you until you forget all about Hans and the only name you say is mine.”

He bit her nipple again.  “Or God’s.”

She moaned, low and throaty, her eyes now glinting in the firelight like sea-blue sapphires.  Kristoff slid a hand under her shorts, confirming what he already suspected – she was bare underneath them.  He squeezed her ass with one hand and groped her breast with the other, circling the nipple with his thumb as he asked, “So why did you come here, Anna?  At two AM with no bra and no panties?  To say you’re sorry?  Or to tempt me?” 

He pinched her nipple.  “That’s a sin, you know.  To willfully lead another to wrongful action or thought.  Oh no, don’t pull away now.”

Anna had started to twist away from him, and he knew he was sending signals so mixed that they were incomprehensible.  But he couldn’t stop.  He wanted one more – one more glimpse, one more taste, one more moment to pretend there was nothing in the way of them being together.

He rested his forehead against her shoulder.  He wanted to blame the years of celibacy, but there was more to it than that.  There was a part of him that wanted to fuck her, but also a part that wanted to take her to dinner and fall asleep in her arms.  To make her breakfast.

He raised his head to find her staring at him with hungry eyes.

“Tonight,” he said.  “And then no more.”

She swallowed and nodded.

“Get on your knees,” he ordered.

She dropped to her knees, kneeling between his legs.

“Take your shirt off.”

She stripped the t-shirt over her head and dropped it on the floor.  Kristoff dug his fingers into the arms of the chair to keep from attacking her.  _Fuck_ , her breasts were perfect.  He wanted his cock between them, to come on them, to feel them pressed against his chest as he covered her body with his.

Would he ever be able to crawl out of this chasm of need?  Even through the haze of his lust, he could see how destructive it would be if he didn’t stop.

But he wasn’t going to stop now.

“You left a wet spot on me, lamb,” he said, glancing at where her arousal had soaked his sweatpants.  Anna squirmed and slid her hand between her thighs.  “What are you doing?”

“I want to come,” she whispered.

“You can make yourself come anytime you want.  You didn’t have to come here for that.”

Her eyes flicked up to his, and then away.  “I want you to make me come.”

“It’s wrong to ask that.”

“I know.”

It was all wrong.  Very wrong.

And that just made it sweeter.

_Jesus help me._

He pushed down his sweatpants.  “Lick,” he ordered.

She did.  He didn’t even bother to hold himself for her; he just dug his fingers deeper into the arms of chair, stifling his moans as her tongue, smooth and slick and soft, slid along the underside of his cock and traced delicate circles around the head.  Her eyes never left his.

“Teabag,” he grunted.  She flashed him a smile and took his balls in her mouth. 

Now he did moan, as her teeth scraped dangerously against his sensitive skin and her tongue rolled his testicles around her mouth.  Oh _God_ , he’d forgotten how good it was…

“Suck me,” he said hoarsely.  Another smile and then he saw only her mass of copper hair bobbing between his thighs as his cock slid into her hot mouth. 

“Oh, God,” he groaned.  His hips vibrated with the need to thrust, and he snaked his hands into her hair, holding her as he pushed, just a little.  His tip hit the back of her throat, and he shuddered as he slid back out, past her tongue and teeth and lips, all of them stroking him deliciously, and when his cock slipped out of her mouth with a wet _pop_ , he was sure he had never been harder in his life.

He _had_ to feel her pussy.  Just once more.  If this was it, if this was the last time, then he had to.  He was already committing a mortal sin by letting her suck him.  Would it be any worse if she rubbed her cunt against him again?

Or if he slid partway inside?  That wasn’t really sex, not _sex_ sex, and he would pull right back out.  He just wanted to feel it once.

Part of his mind knew he was rationalizing.  All of it was sex.  All of it was wrong.  But right then, right there, with his dick rock hard and the most beautiful woman in the world on her knees in front of him, he just didn’t care.

“Take your shorts off and get up on the table,” he ordered.

Anna stood and shimmied out of her shorts, then hopped up on the dining table.  Kristoff rose slowly.  He was dizzy with arousal, and so hard he had trouble walking.  He knew he was skirting the edge, near the point of no return.  But with Anna sitting there on his dining table, looking like a meal and smelling of strawberries, musky arousal, and female sweat, he was ready to fling himself into the unknown.

He slid his hands up her calves and pushed her knees wide apart, then pulled her right up to the edge of the table so that his cock pressed against her slick folds.

A flash of lightning lit her face, casting her freckles in sharp relief against her fair skin.  She licked her lips as she met his gaze.  Then, as thunder shook the house, he leaned forward and kissed her for the first time.

Her mouth was soft, but not pliant.  It was greedy, and Kristoff fought her, they fought each other to see who could take what they wanted first.  He tangled his fingers in her hair, holding her tight, and she fought him, becoming a wriggling mass of warm muscles and soft curves, her hips jerking against his and her nails raking down his back until his mouth opened and her tongue thrust inside.

He finally broke the kiss, and she stared up at him, her eyes lust-filled and as wild as her hair.

“I want to be inside you, Anna,” he breathed.  “Just a little.  Just to feel it once.”

“Oh God, yes.  Please.”

“You have to hold still,” he warned.  “Do you understand me?”

She nodded once.

He couldn’t believe he was doing this in the rectory – _it’s not any worse than the sanctuary_ – but there was no way he was stopping now.

He wrapped his hand around himself and rubbed the head of his cock along her folds.  Circled her clit with it, then slid it down past her entrance to her ass.  She shivered.  It seemed that she would have no objection to _that_ , either.

Just one more item on the growing list of things he’d never have.

He rubbed along her folds a few more times, clit to ass, listening to her moans, and then he could wait no longer.  He pressed against her opening and watched as his tip slowly slid in. 

He froze when the head of his cock was in her.  Both of them stared at the sight.  The priest, tasting the forbidden fruit.  Kristoff’s every muscle quivered with the effort to keep from plunging further; to keep himself from eating it all.

Her cunt was so tight, her soft, slick skin squeezing him.  It felt so primal.  So incredible.

It felt like heaven, rather than two inches of damnation.

Anna rocked a little bit, trying to take him further in.  Kristoff grabbed her hips, shaking with the effort not to come just from that tiny movement.

“Be still,” he rasped, “or I’m going to come before I’m ready.”  He stared directly into those sea-blue eyes.  The flames dancing in them now had nothing to do with the fireplace.  “And then I _will_ turn you over my knee and spank your ass until you learn to mind.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” she breathed, goosebumps breaking out all over her exposed skin.  “I – you – this…this is the hottest thing I’ve ever done.”

He leaned his forehead against hers.  “I want to feel you come.”

Her breath stuttered and she clenched around him.  He swore and dug his fingers harder into her hips.

“Fuck, keep _still_ ,” he ground out as she whispered an apology.

He slid his hand over her leg and traced her damp auburn curls one time with his thumb before finding her clit.  They watched as his hand, large and tanned and calloused, rubbed and circled and pressed her soft pink flesh.  They watched her pussy quiver around his tip of his cock, their breathing fast and harsh in the quiet of the room.

They both trembled with the effort to keep still as Kristoff stroked her faster and harder.  Anna’s head lolled back and a barely-audible _please_ escaped her lips.

“Please what, lamb?” 

“I need…I’m…”  She fell back against the table, supporting herself with her elbows.  Her back arched, raising her breasts up for him.

Kristoff leaned forward and took a nipple in his mouth.  He curled his tongue around it, tasting rainwater and salty skin, and loving the way it stiffened even more as he sucked on it.

“You’re what, lamb?” he asked before biting down gently.  “Use your words.”

“I – _nnngg_!” Her hips jerked sharply as she came, once, then again and again, as though they were chasing the pleasure that rolled through her.  Her pussy clenched around the head of his cock, squeezing and pulsing.  Kristoff swore and grabbed the edges of the table, clutching it hard enough to bruise his hands even as his blood sang with the knowledge that he could make her come while barely being inside her.

She sagged against him as she came down, resting her forehead against his neck.  Her breath was hot and fast against his skin, and did nothing to slow the blood pounding in his ears.  Her hands came up to twist into his t-shirt.  Lightning flashed again, and for the first time, he noticed she had freckles generously splashed across her shoulders.  He bit his lip, suppressing the sudden urge to kiss each and every one.

“Your turn,” she mumbled into his neck.

He started to pull out, but she grabbed his hips.  “No.  Inside me.”

“Anna – “

“I want to see it,” she said, her jaw taking on a stubborn set.  “I want it where it belongs.  Please, Kristoff.  If this is it, please let me have this.”

 _Kristoff_.  She’d called him by his name.  Not _Father Kristoff_ or just _Father_.

Anna sat back and lifted her legs to rest her heels on the edge of the table.  The movement made her tighten around him, and a groan tore from his chest.  She lifted one hand and rested it against his chest, then dragged a single finger down his torso.  She circled the base of his cock, then cupped his balls, rolling them in her palm as her finger slid back to circle around his opening.  Then her hips bucked a tiny bit –

Kristoff was lost.  The tension coiling in the base of his spine snapped.  His hips jerked and his abs contracted, and he came with a strangled cry.  He clung to the edge of the table as his knees wobbled, and forced himself to stay upright as he watched.  Watched his first orgasm inside a woman in years.  Watched her spread her legs even wider, her pussy wet and his come leaking out of her.

When he was finally spent, he hung his head, panting.  Anna snuggled in closer, letting out a contented little sigh, and Kristoff’s heart twisted in his chest.  Now that his lust had subsided, he could hear it demanding everything it wanted, but could never have.  He pressed his face into Anna’s hair, afraid for a instant that he might start crying.

_What are you doing to me, Anna?_

They stayed that way for a long moment.  Then his overworked air conditioner rattled to life, making them jump.  Anna shivered as the cool air blew over her naked skin.

“Wait here,” Kristoff said, giving her a quick kiss. 

He went to fetch a washcloth.  Sven darted out of the bedroom when he opened the door, and by the time he returned with the warm wet cloth and her clothes, the dog was bounding happily around Anna, yipping.

“Sorry,” Kristoff said, dragging Sven away by the collar.  “He never met a stranger.  Sven, go lie down!”

Sven gave him a wounded look, but went to his bed by the fireplace.

“It’s okay,” Anna said.  “I love dogs.  I’ve always traveled too much to have one.”

Kristoff went back to her and cleaned her with the warm washcloth.  Then he helped her into her clothes and walked her to the door.

“So…I’ll see you at Mass tomorrow?” she asked.

“Anna – “

She put her fingers over his lips and gave him a sad smile.  “I know.”

He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers.  Then more from reflex than anything else, he traced a small cross on her forehead with his thumb.

“Goodnight, my lamb.”

 

 

 


End file.
